


Leg Day

by biggayidiot



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Gym Sex, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, Mirrors, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Topping from the Bottom, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 11:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggayidiot/pseuds/biggayidiot
Summary: When Eggsy had given Harry’s hand a squeeze after debriefing, said he’d be by later after a quick trip to the gym, Harry had gripped Eggsy’s hand tighter and refused to let go. In his most wheedling, earnest voice, Harry said, “I think you need a spotter, darling, you might hurt yourself.” Eggys rolled his eyes and tugged Harry along.***Eggsy will do anything Harry asks. Harry exploits this while watching Eggsy squat at the gym.





	Leg Day

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by me being horny at the gym while working on my front squat, sorry not at all fucking sorry. My first ever Kingsman fic! Enjoy!

They’re the only ones in the expensive, state-of-the-art Kingsman gym this evening, Eggsy and Harry. Nine thousand square feet of gleaming equipment and mirrored walls with the two of them taking up residency at the squat rack. They look diametrically opposed, a sort of which-one-of-these-doesn’t-belong game: Harry lanky and neat in an immaculate white button-up while Eggsy sweats through his t-shirt, thighs straining under the bar.

(When Eggsy had given Harry’s hand a squeeze after debriefing, said he’d be by later after a quick trip to the gym, Harry had gripped Eggsy’s hand tighter and refused to let go. In his most wheedling, earnest voice, Harry said, “I think you need a spotter, darling, you might hurt yourself.” Eggys rolled his eyes and tugged Harry along.)

Eggsy re-racks the bar after a set. 135 kilograms, standard for him. Thighs all thick, springy muscle. “Well done,” Harry quips from off to the side. 

Eggsy wipes his face with the hem of his shirt and looks at Harry where he leans against the mirror, legs crossed at the ankle. “You could cut in, if you want,” Eggsy says. “Pervert.”

Harry’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “Oh, I couldn’t impose,” he says. “Besides, you know me, much more cardio-inclined.”

“Sure, sure.” Eggsy takes a swig from his water bottle. Some drips down his chin. He uses his shirt to wipe his face again.

“You might take that off,” Harry suggests.

“Sorry?” Eggsy cocks his head, knows where this is going. Feels his face flush and mouth dry out. Harry suppresses a blinding grin at already having won.

“Your shirt.”   
  
“Yeah, you might stop being such a freak.”

“Doubtful.” Harry pushes himself off the wall, approaches Eggsy and takes the bottom of his t-shirt in his hands. “Up,” he instructs, and like an obedient pet Eggsy lifts his arms for Harry to pull the shirt off. Eggsy watches Harry fold up the fabric, no-nonsense, like he’s doing Eggsy a little favor. Eggsy’s gut flips. The familiar feeling of realizing that he’d do anything Harry asked, anything Harry  _ ordered _ , be it taking his shirt off to display himself or getting on his knees on the hard gym floor or bracing himself against the wall of mirrors while--

Harry is running Eggsy’s shirt, now folded into a neat bundle, across Eggsy’s bare chest, soaking up sweat. From his stomach to his pecs, up to the hollow at his throat, wet and sparkling. At the back of Eggsy’s neck, now, sweat dripping from his hair there, to his hairline and over his pretty, dazed face. Eggsy lets himself be taken care of, closing his eyes when the shirt sweeps over his brow and opening them back up to look at Harry, stoic and methodical and torturously, cruelly handsome. Unfair, Eggsy thinks, Harry standing there looking like that while Eggsy is relegated to nothing but his worn-out pair of gym shorts.

“There we are,” Harry murmurs, hot little breaths against Eggsy’s cheek with every word. Harry uses the warm, dry flat of his palm to rub down Eggsy’s chest, over a nipple. Eggsy’s mouth opens and shuts, dumbfounded, throat clicking dry.

Harry steps back. He drapes the sodden shirt over his shoulder then unclamps one of the bar collars. “Would you try 150 for me?” he asks nonchalantly, as if he doesn’t know Eggsy would bend over backwards if he demanded.

“Only if you don’t let me crush myself to death,” Eggsy tries to divert. Hot thrumming blood in his ears, feeling exposed and lewd. A showoff. Just for Harry.

“Certainly not.”

Eggsy loads a 15 kilogram plate on either side and secures the collars, taking his place under the bar. He squeezes his shoulder blades together and rests the bar across his traps. He chances a look in the mirror to see Harry appraising him, the cut of his body. Eggsy widens his stance.

Before he can lift the bar from the rack, Harry is behind him, imperceptibly adjusting the bar pad under the guise of helping Eggsy out, making him more comfortable. His fingers are kneading and purposeful on the muscled hills of Eggsy’s back. Eggsy huffs out a laugh, catches Harry’s eyes in the mirror. “Real help, you are.”

Harry lets himself smile at his shamelessness. “Can’t risk an injury, can we.”

“I think I know what I’m doing alright, thanks.”

Eggsy grips the bar, his biceps flexing as he curls his fingers up above his shoulders. Harry chooses that moment to skim his hands down Eggsy’s sides, over the shifting and contracting muscles of his abdomen, and gently stops at Eggsy’s hips. The ghost of a touch, just barely making contact with the overheated skin at Eggsy’s waistband. He’s pressed up close to Eggsy’s back, nearly blanketing him from shoulders to calves. “Mouthy,” Harry says, lips against the shell of Eggsy’s ear, not whispering but speaking in an even, low voice that buzzes right down to the pit of Eggsy’s stomach. “But you’ll do what I ask anyway, right, Eggsy?” Eggsy’s palms slide against the bar, damp with sweat. He lets his eyes close. “Mm, no, look at me, look in the mirror,” says Harry. Eggsy does. Harry raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Eggsy breathes. “Anything you want, you know I would.” He considers himself in the mirror for a moment: pink and young and wide-eyed, devotion smacked onto his face.

“A dangerous sentiment,” Harry says. As Eggsy turns his head, angling to touch his lips to Harry’s over the bar, Harry steps a few feet back so he can take in the whole of Eggsy’s body. “Go on,” he suggests.

Eggsy shakes his head and rolls his neck in hopes of clearing his mind, focusing his attention. Harry is as quiet as ever, fondling the sweat-wet hem of Eggsy’s shirt. Eggsy exhales, pushes the bar up and away from the rack, steps back, and lowers himself on a sharp inhale. It’s heavier than he’s used to.

“Christ, look at you,” Harry says.

Crouched in a full squat, Eggsy looks like he’s been cut from stone, hard and sturdy and beautiful. His shoulders, broad and perfectly straight, narrow into a trim waist and large thighs that shake slightly under the weight. He pushes back up, unfurls from a tight little ball up to his full height. 

“Gorgeous, strong thing, you are,” Harry says conversationally as Eggsy lowers into his second rep. Eggsy stands again, thighs straining from exertion. Harry hums. Hungry. “You’re shaking, darling.”

“S’almost my max,” Eggsy pants, rolling on the balls of his feet, preparing to drop down again. 

Harry considers as Eggsy completes his third rep. “Who would even think to challenge my boy, my strong boy,” he says. Eggsy laughs breathlessly, wipes his forehead off in the crook of his elbow. “Lethal. Strong enough that you could best me in a fight, right Eggsy?”

Eggsy finishes his set. He re-racks the bar and turns around to look at Harry. Eggsy is covered in a gossamer layer of sweat. He rests his chin on the bar. “You could still take me.” He runs a hand through undone damp hair.

Harry doesn’t move this time, simply shifts against the mirror and looks at Eggsy like a particularly intense teacher about to start in on a new lesson. Instructive, precise, knowing exactly what he wants. “What’s your max, dear?” Harry asks, nodding his head at the rack. He betrays himself here, tongue wetting his lips, belying his cool exterior. 

“Like, my one-rep max?”

“Yes. The most you could handle.”

Eggsy exhales. “Haven’t tried in awhile. I think last time it was 170.” 

“Would you do that for me?”

Eggsy’s eyes are glazed wet with need. Eager to please. Harry knows this. “Sure,” he says as he starts to load more plates onto the bar. 

“Good. Very good boy,” Harry says, quiet and soft, almost as if he hopes Eggsy won’t hear. Eggsy does. He swallows an undignified whimper. “You know one of the things I adore about you?” 

“What?” Eggsy asks as he loads the bar. Slide a plate off its peg, lift it with arms flexing, slide it onto the bar, clamp it in place. “That I let you boss me around?” He smiles, takes his place under the bar. 

Harry chuckles. “In so many words,” he says. “I was going to say that you’re so obedient.”

Eggsy can’t help but whine at that. Harry’s grin is feral.

“Go ahead,” Harry says. Eggsy’s eyes flutter. “Be good for me.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy whispers. He staggers back, the bar hard and heavy on his shoulders, and begins to squat down. 

“Anything I want, hmm,” Harry says. Eggsy’s chest heaves with exertion. The bar presses an indelible mark into his muscles. “What a lucky man I am, to have a boy who does what I say.”

“Fuck, Harry,” Eggsy groans. He tries to stand then stops, overwhelmed. Harry steps closer to catch him if he falls. Eggsy gathers his strength and presses up with shaky legs.

“Lovely,” Harry praises when Eggsy stands up straight. Eggsy re-racks the bar and bends over to catch his breath. Harry comes up behind him, rubs a hand over the sweat collecting at his lower back. “Would you do more if I asked?”

Eggsy pants. He catches Harry’s eyes in the mirror. Without hesitation: “Yeah.”

Harry moans in approval. Eggsy stands, leans back against Harry who wraps his arms around Eggsy, hands greedy and searching over the planes of his stomach. Eggsy’s heart kicks against his ribcage. Harry lets Eggsy’s heartbeat kiss up against his palm where it rests on Eggsy’s chest. “Would you let me do this with everyone else here, when it’s busy? So I can show you off?” Harry brushes over the crotch of Eggsy’s shorts, feels where he’s half-hard and tenting the fabric.

“Yeah,” Eggsy says. He closes his eyes, comfortable to be held up by Harry. “Wanna be good.”

“I know you do.” He rubs at the bit of Eggsy’s stomach right above the waistband of his shorts. Eggsy cants his hips up into the touch. Harry moves lower, grips the outline of Eggsy’s cock. Eggsy gasps a little, breath punched out of him. Harry steps back. “Here,” he says. Eggsy steps aside and watches Harry adjust the bar so it’s high up on the squat rack, high enough that Eggsy has to put his arms up to reach. “Hold onto the bar,” Harry orders.

Eggsy stretches his arms above his head and grips the bar, like he’s hanging from monkey bars with his feet flat on the ground. A little ridiculous-looking, body all stretched out, breathing short. Anything for Harry.

Harry circles around to Eggsy’s front. He cups Eggsy’s face in his hands and finally, finally kisses him. It’s almost too much for Eggsy, heart still hammering, who almost immediately moans and opens his mouth into the kiss. Harry licks inside, gripping Eggsy’s jaw. 

When Harry pulls away a little, nose bumping against Eggsy’s, Eggsy pushes forward, chasing Harry’s mouth. He tentatively removes a hand from the bar and makes as if to touch Harry’s cheek. “Can I--”

“Keep your hands where they are,” Harry says. Eggsy reaches back up. Dutiful.

Harry lowers to his knees in front of Eggsy. Eggsy tips his head back and moans through gritted teeth. “Can’t just do shit like that ‘n expect me to keep my hands off,” Eggsy says. Harry palms Eggsy’s cock through his shorts. He sucks at the head, fabric dampening with spit, with precome. Eggsy’s body rolls in a gorgeous, lazy wave from head to feet.

Harry shimmies Eggsy’s shorts to halfway down his legs. His cock lolls out, half-hard against his viciously muscled thigh, head slipping out red and wet from his foreskin. “But you will,” Harry says matter-of-factly. He gives Eggsy a long, hard stroke, pushes his thumb into his slit as he watches Eggsy’s mouth drop open. “I know you’re more well-behaved than that.” Harry takes Eggsy’s cock into his mouth. Eggsy makes a desperate little sobbing sound. Harry sucks him in deeper.

“Ah, fuck, Harry, fuck,” Eggsy whimpers, tipping his hips forward, his cock brushing against Harry’s pinked-up lips as he jerks him off with a rigid grip. Harry puts a hand on Eggsy’s hip and pushes him back, keeps stroking him. “ _ Please _ , Harry, more.”

“No,” Harry says. “Patience.” When he looks up at Eggsy, his heart aches, relentless and tender: Eggsy’s eyes nearly welled up with tears, brow furrowed, cheeks blushing a perfect shade of red, like a pretty doll, mouth hanging agape. Harry spits on the head of Eggsy’s dick and takes him back in his throat.

Harry sucks Eggsy’s cock thorough and wet and perfect, taking the length of him in and pulling off to the tip, the velvety clutch of his throat massaging his cockhead. Harry palms himself through his trousers, almost painfully hard where his thighs are spread on the gym floor. He removes his hands and places them back on Eggsy’s hips, feeling the jittery jumps of muscle as Eggsy tries to control himself, tries to hold himself still.

After a few minutes, Eggsy’s arms weaken and go slack. He can’t help but thrust once into Harry’s mouth. “Close,” he warns. “Harry, gonna come.”

Harry pulls off Eggsy’s cock. He stands up, grips Eggsy’s dick in one hand and uses the other to hold the back of his neck, thumb brushing against Eggsy’s jaw. He starts an unforgiving pace. Eggsy’s hips stutter in Harry’s wet, hot fist. “Tell me when,” Harry warns, gazing into Eggsy’s fluttering, teary eyes. “My perfect, smart, strong boy. Tell me when.”

“Fuck,” Eggsy sobs, crowding in as close as he can get to Harry. One hand has dropped from the bar and it now rests on Eggsy’s head, on his forehead like he’s exasperated, wrung out. His cock is raw and red in Harry’s grip. Throbbing. “M’ coming, Harry, I’m coming.”

As soon as Eggsy says so, Harry removes his hand and steps back to watch.

Eggsy’s cock twitches, exposed and dripping where Harry’s hand used to be. He spills all over himself, come pulsing down his shaft and onto the gym floor. Eggsy cries out, tries to bring a hand down to work himself through it, but Harry intercepts him by the wrists and watches his ruined orgasm. He’s still hard. Hard, sticky, and biting his lip hard enough to bleed. “Please, please,” Eggsy whines, pushing his face into Harry’s neck. “Touch me.”

Harry bats at Eggsy’s cock, gentle enough, watches it smack back up to Eggsy’s stomach. “Look at you,” he murmurs. “Look at the size of you.” He gives Eggsy one last stroke, one last slap. His cock, pretty and red and weeping, bobs where it protrudes from his body, refusing to flag. Eggsy keens. “Strapping thing.”

“I didn’t...can you, Harry, I’m...” Eggsy says, incoherent. 

Harry hums in response. He pulls Eggsy’s shorts back up instead and folds Eggsy into his arms until his breathing evens out, until his heartbeat doesn’t visibly shake his chest. “Good,” Harry says. “So good, listening to me like that.” Eggsy nods in the crook of Harry’s neck.

When he’s settled, Eggsy pulls back from Harry’s embrace. “That was fucked up,” he says, smiling a little. He pushes his groin up against Harry’s thigh, still hard, grinds up on him. “I’m still fucking hard, arsehole.”

Harry laughs. He kisses Eggsy sloppy wet and grinning. “Well,” he says when he pulls back, “what’s next? Are we deadlifting?”

Eggsy groans and starts to re-adjust the bar height.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading - comments and kudos mean the world to me 💖 Thanks for stopping by!


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